Richie, dressed in an orange dashiki, points to the sky.
“Come on, here comes the sun. I want to get back to my roots, let’s hop on these drinking gourds.”
His laughter is powerful and we follow him.

Grounded by a center beam, a turntable twirls the entire base.
Movement starts slowly but quickly builds.
Rainbow colored teacups spin in intense, rhythmic style and
round and around and up and down we go.

Choice is motor driven and familiar fear spins me about.
My body tenses. The gearbox surges with power.
It changes direction.
Back and forth like a conscious choice.
Surrender or stay angry, I can’t decide.
Some times I feel like I’m fading and I’m already gone.
Some times I feel like a motherless inner child,
alone, lost and a long, long way from my home.

Richie notices I’m turning pale. He points to his heart and shouts, “Reach into the darkness and bring the child light.
Otherwise you’ll be pulled into two worlds like a rollercoaster feeling elevated and then falling deep into fear.
Acceptance lets events unfold in natural flow.
Round and around and up and down we go.

Gear ratio brings desired speed and direction.
In raspy voice Richie breaks out in surging medley,
“Freedom. . . . . Freedom. . . . . . . Freedom.. . . . .Freedom.
Share your visions, Clap you hands.
Walk your visions, Clap your hands.
Trust you visions. Clap you hands.
And hey, What are we going to do for the next million years?
Freedom. . . .Freedom. . . . Freedom . . . Clap your hands.

The ride slows and gravity claims our group again.
We yell, “Encore, Encore, Encore!”

Richie keeps on singing making it up as he goes.
“Sometimes I feel the north winds coming on.
Sometimes I feel an undersea of consciousness.
Sometimes I see people sharing and clapping hands.
And it is time to get back to the garden and
making safe havens.” Richie is drenched in sweat but still
sings on.

“I got a phone in my heart pocket so I can talk to my soul.
I got a phone in my heart pocket so I can talk to the man
and feel love.
I got a call from my heart and it’s my father, it’s my mother
and all my sisters and brothers.
Ahh, Freedom, ahh, Freedom.
It has been such a long, long way home.”
He pounds the side like bongos and adds, “but then,
“I’ll be back to go around and up and down on this ride again.”

Rest in Peace Richie.

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